


Hood Ornament

by mylordshesacactus



Category: RWBY
Genre: Banter, Car Sex, Established Relationship, F/F, don't look at me i know, inappropriate use of superpowers, look no one ELSE was writing springthyme smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:13:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21807232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylordshesacactus/pseuds/mylordshesacactus
Summary: "Well…” Fiona kicked her feet idly in the air from where she was perched atop the stolen transport. After a moment, she patted the armored side. “You can’t say I never get you anything nice.”Or: Robyn takes advantage of the downtime between strikes.
Relationships: Robyn Hill/Fiona Thyme
Comments: 33
Kudos: 209





	Hood Ornament

The transport’s rear doors slammed shut with satisfying finality. Robyn rolled her shoulders and, wincing, massaged some life back into her aching fingers. 

“You know,” Joanna pointed out as she did every single time. “This’d be a lot easier if we just, oh... _took_ the stuff we stole.”

“Or if I just used the electronic manifests,” Robyn agreed. But those couldn’t be burned or swallowed in an emergency. “And no. We’re not _highwaymen,_ Joanna.”

There was a long pause and a round of skeptical noises. May held up a hand and wiggled it noncommittally. Even Fiona, when Robyn flicked a look her way, winced and wrinkled her nose.

Finally, Robyn couldn’t help but snort and roll her eyes. “All right, you win. You know what I meant. We do this right.”

 _Doing this right_ meant only taking what Mantle had every legal right to in the first place. Robyn had no intention of starting a career in highway robbery, and she was _not_ a thief. Well—not except in the technical legal sense of her physical actions, anyway. The four of them operated under the radical position that supplies legally earmarked for Mantle should end up there—nothing more. Misappropriated resources would be...redirected, to where they were legally intended to go in the first place.

There were always a handful of unrelated bits of cargo in these military transports, however. Usually Dust, every so often a shipment for an honest contractor or delivery to a civilian merchant with Atlas contacts. Robyn would never forgive herself if her good intentions resulted in stealing from operations like Dr Polendina’s, for example—

Gods. Penny. It _couldn’t_ have been. But what could possibly…

The point was, it was worth it to go through the inventory and mark it against both the official shipping manifest—smuggled contraband was always a fun windfall that they enjoyed finding better use for than enriching the corrupt—and the publicly-available records of scheduled supply runs for Mantle.

Anything Mantle’s by right was Mantle’s by right. Even Ironwood wouldn’t be able to raise hell over supplies legally earmarked to be delivered to Mantle bases actually ending up there; Fiona was the best delivery service in the world. Anything intended for honest civilians would be left untouched. And anything being carried for the SDC…

Well, Robyn left a third of it with the shipment to be returned. It wasn’t _misappropriated,_ after all, and she had rules about that kind of thing. But Jacques Schnee would still be the wealthiest man in Atlas with a third of his money even if Robyn and her girls could make that kind of dent; and meanwhile, his workers starved. One third of those supplies would stay with the SDC, which was already more than it deserved; one third went directly to what was left of the local White Fang; the rest they fenced, and spread the money through reputable Mantle charities.

“All done?” enquired Fiona, as Robyn brushed herself off and handed May a folded paper. With a curfew in place and the whole lot of them days at best from being declared outlaws, May was by far their best option for any late-night conspiracies. She’d make the rounds of their usual fences, show them the list of liberated conglomerate merchandise, and bring back their lowballed offers for Robyn to bitch about for the next week.

Still, this was Mantle. _Some_ money was always better than none.

“Take Joanna,” she ordered as May accepted the list. “It’s ugly out there. And Ironwood _wants_ us now.”

“I _can_ take care of myself,” May pointed out; but she didn’t actually protest Joanna’s company. Joanna banged lightly on the side of the massive vehicle for luck before the two of them let themselves out the street-level entrance of their borrowed basement space.

This was temporary; they didn’t want to lead anyone back to their main hideout by returning to it too predictably. But they had friends; and where they didn’t, the “Happy Huntresses” had friends with things like unused basements near the crater’s edge. In this case all they’d needed was a simple plywood construct over the door, creating an airlock space to avoid unfriendly eyes catching a glimpse of the Atlesian military transport that absolutely did not belong in the basement of a run-down townhouse.

“Stay safe,” Robyn told them both quietly. She got jaunty grins, rolled eyes, and a half-salute from Joanna as they closed the door behind them.

“Remember when the most dangerous thing out there was the Grimm?” Fiona asked.

Robyn smiled with very little conviction. “Not really.”

Fiona sighed. “Yeah, me neither. Well…” She kicked her feet idly in the air from where she was perched atop the transport like some kind of hood ornament. After a moment, she patted the armored side. “You can’t say I never get you anything nice.”

At that Robyn couldn’t help but laugh. “I’d take you to dinner like old times if it wouldn’t get us all arrested.” Some of the bitterness lifted from her chest. “We did good today.”

Fiona’s smile softened. “We did. This is going to make a difference.”

“And we have the hits down to an art form now. We can probably take at least three more before Ironwood starts to retaliate.”

“We might be able to manage four.” Fiona flexed her fingers. “I’ve been training my Semblance more than usual lately, just in case.”

Robyn nodded, turning the possibility over seriously in her head. If Fiona said she could do more, then she could do more; it would be an insult to try to protect her from the strain. But at the same time…

“We’ll run tomorrow night’s hits as planned,” she decided. “I’ll plan out a fourth, but we don’t move on it unless you’re confident. Don’t overextend yourself. Time is everything, and I don’t want you dealing with an aura break when we need to go out the next night. I need all four of us at our best.”

Fiona flashed a thumbs-up. “Well, three of us,” she allowed. Leaning over, she reached out and tapped Robyn’s nose. “But you _do_ have the very important job of standing there looking pretty while I steal you a truck.”

“Brat.” Her feigned nip at Fiona’s retreating fingers having gotten absolutely nowhere near them, Robyn planted a foot on the truck’s front wheel and hauled herself up to lean one elbow against the top of the cabin. “You think I’m pretty?”

“Oh, shut up.” Fiona laughed. “You’re fishing for compliments.”

Grinning, Robyn ran fingers through Fiona’s hair, along her ear, and tugged at her collar before coming up to brush her jaw. “So you _don’t_ think I’m pretty.”

Aura flared softly where their skin touched. Fiona’s eyes narrowed, her ears flicking back and forth in opposite directions for several long seconds.

“...No,” she grumbled.

“Mmhmm.” Robyn leaned in and kissed her. “Try again.”

“I don’t,” said Fiona petulantly. Badly stifling a whine as Robyn’s lips played over her neck, she insisted, “Not even a little.”

“Liar,” Robyn breathed against her jaw.

Whatever Fiona intended to say next, it trailed off into a low gasp; her Semblance suddenly requiring more sacrifice than it was worth, Robyn’s free hand had found its way up her thigh instead. She squeezed, a promise for the future, before trailing up Fiona’s side and setting to work on the fastenings of her coat.

A few moments of gentle encouragement was enough to turn Fiona’s face to her again for a long, searing kiss. Gentle fingers worked into Robyn’s hair, fiddling with her ponytail; the tie released with suspicious suddenness and a flare of pale gold in the dark basement.

“Your Semblance,” Robyn murmured against Fiona’s lips, “is _very_ useful.”

“Yeah-huh,” was the breathless response. “Get back here please.”

“Maybe I want to look at you,” Robyn protested; the argument was both mild and ineffective, as she’d already put an arm around Fiona’s waist to pull her lover flush against her. Fiona gave a soft hum of pleasure.

She ran her hands through Robyn’s hair, eyes shining. “I never get to see you with your hair down.”

Robyn couldn’t keep the amusement off her face. “You see me with my hair down almost every night, lambchop.”

“Not enough,” Fiona breathed. She pulled Robyn in again for another long kiss, with which Robyn was only too willing to cooperate. “Not enough, we’ve just...we’ve been so busy, with the election, and then dodging the military, Robyn, I _need_ you, will you just—”

“Get in the cab,” Robyn ordered, managing to pull away enough to jerk her head toward the truck’s passenger area before diving back in, nuzzling into the joint of Fiona’s neck and shoulder and sucking hard enough to taste an Aura flare under her teeth.

A panting laugh. “Or—or what?”

“Or I’ll lose my _mind,_ Fiona!” Robyn had to laugh too, now, tugging her gloves off with her teeth to slip her hands under Fiona’s shirt. “Now, are you going to get somewhere I can lay you down or am I going to have to carry you?”

Fiona raised an eyebrow, but she was grinning as she lay back on the hood with an all-too-innocent expression.

“...One of us is going to fall,” Robyn observed, lifting a knee onto the transport regardless. Smirking openly, Fiona sat up to grip her by the hood and tug her fully onto the truck. “And it’s going to be your OW! _Fuck!”_

Fiona held up her hands, eyes wide. “I am _so_ sorry.”

Rubbing her forehead where she’d done her damnedest to split it open against the low rafters, Robyn winced. If these stupid military transport vehicles weren’t so ungodly huge, they wouldn’t come so close to scraping the ceiling in an average civilian basement space.

“Right,” she managed through the stars dancing behind her eyes. “We’re moving to the cab.”

“No fun,” Fiona retorted. 

She was not, Robyn noted wryly, so put out by being overruled that she didn’t hurry to follow when Robyn swung back down off the front wheel. She did have time to pause and smirk, however.

“You know,” she said, leaning over and resting her elbows on her knees. “At this height you’re in the perfect position to—”

 _“Brat,”_ Robyn informed her again, reaching up and yanking Fiona down after her.

Her victory won her a squeak and Fiona’s legs frantically, reflexively tightening around her waist as she fell. Catching her with ease, Robyn allowed herself a small smirk and a quick kiss to Fiona’s cheek before letting them fall against the passenger-side door with a loud thud. It was just enough, not to hurt, but to let Fiona _feel_ the impact.

She shrugged out of her coat, letting Fiona balance with warm hands braced against her chest as she tossed it aside. Then—unable to resist—she leaned in to give her lovely girl a peck on the lips, and then a second, before pulling back to finally tug Fiona’s shirt over her head.

 _“Hey,_ come back—oh,” Fiona complained, the last part slightly muffled by the cloth over her face until Robyn twitched it free.

For a heartbeat it was absolute bliss; Fiona’s knees tightening against her hips, soft skin and hard muscle under Robyn’s hands at last, an ecstatic giggle bubbling over Fiona’s tongue as Robyn tugged at her bottom lip.

Her hands wandered, slow and indulgent, coming up to palm small breasts, and Robyn...stopped.

The fingers spanning Fiona’s ribs felt hot, shaky with the memory of blood. Robyn took a steadying breath, resting her forehead against Fiona’s and closing her eyes. The wound would heal; it had been deep and broad, but by sheer luck had avoided any major organs. But it would scar. Whatever had been done to her Aura...and yet she was only of the lucky ones. The angry red scar, only half faded, was the only reminder that she had ever been hurt.

But it had been so close. So, so terribly close. So many deaths, that night, and so few answers…

 _Damn_ Ironwood, anyway.

“...Robyn?” A quiet hum of acknowledgement was apparently not what Fiona was looking for; a gentle tug on her hair pulled Robyn’s head back enough to look Fiona in wide, worried green eyes. A small smile. “I’m okay.”

Robyn smiled back, because it was impossible not to return Fiona’s smiles. “I know.”

Those damn ears tilted forward hopefully, as Fiona guided Robyn’s hand away from her ribs and dropped a kiss onto the knuckles.

“I’m okay,” she said again, softly, then rapped her knuckles against the transport’s armor. “Focus on today. And making use of this generous donation from the Kingdom of Atlas?”

Robyn managed to laugh. “I _do_ love watching you work.”

Fiona rewarded the change of subject with a kiss and a smug look. “I know you do.”

“Oh _do_ you.” Robyn stepped in, using her weight to press her into the door, twining the fingers of her right hand into Fiona’s left and pinning it beside her head. Fiona’s breath stuttered. Robyn smirked as she leaned closer, tongue darting out to toy with her belled earring. Lowering her voice, she murmured, “You were _posing_ for me tonight.”

Fiona whined, glancing sideways at the swirling intertwined Aura of their clasped hands, and pinned her ears back in a poor facsimile of annoyance.

"Was not,” she gasped. The lie seared red-hot between them. “You’re projecting."

“Of course I am,” Robyn whispered against her mouth, a flick of her tongue more than enough to convince Fiona to open for her. There was one more halfhearted attempt at mumbling some form of denial; but by then Robyn’s hand had dropped to her breast, with intent this time, and Fiona fisted her right hand in Robyn’s hair and decided they had better things to do than talk.

Robyn really had intended to move them into the truck’s cabin. If she reached up she could pop the door and lift Fiona up to it without any real trouble; but on the other hand, she thought, as Fiona’s careful fingernails trailing down her side drew a groan from deep in her chest...on the other hand there was really no reason to change anything about this, actually.

A wadded-up jacket struck her in the side of the face.

 _“Get a room!”_ called Joanna from the doorway.

Fiona yelped; Robyn relaxed her hold instinctively, letting the poor girl scramble into the coat Robyn had left on the floor. For her part, Robyn just turned around and crossed her arms, resting one foot on the truck and leaning back against it. 

“We had one,” she pointed out.

Joanna snorted. “One that we’re not in. I think May went to gouge out her eyes.”

“May?” Robyn frowned. “I didn’t see May come—”

Joanna lifted an eyebrow, amusement radiating from every pore.

Acknowledging with a silent tilt of the head that it had been a stupid thing to say, Robyn sighed and raised her voice. “We’re decent!”

May’s voice drifted down from the empty house above them. _“I don’t want to be having this conversation!”_

“Hey, Fiona,” Joanna greeted her casually as a beet-red Fiona wrapped tightly in Robyn’s overcoat rejoined them. “Nice to see that scar’s healing up.”

Fiona’s ears performed several seconds of complicated acrobatics before finally dropping backwards in abject embarrassment as she spluttered, “You could _knock!”_

Robyn reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, guiding Fiona close against her side and silencing whatever retort Joanna was planning with the motion. “You two are back early,” she said instead. “What happened? Tell me Quinten just offered to buy everything.”

“Yeah.” Joanna’s bone-dry voice spoke volumes of the likelihood of their fairest but most infamously picky fence ever doing anything of the sort. “No dice. One of Ironwood’s dogs was watching the place. I saw a scanner; they know about May, and if they don’t _know_ how to counter her they’ve got theories.”

“More worryingly, they know or suspect at least some of our contacts.” Robyn thought for a moment. “There’s no reason we need to sell anything along right now. We wait them out unless something happens that makes the cash flow absolutely necessary. If they’re watching for May then we use her as a decoy for a while. Fiona’s too visible, it’ll have to be you making most of the rounds. In the meantime we need to warn the White Fang; if Ironwood’s planning a crackdown, the Faunus will be the first to suffer.”

“I can do that,” Fiona offered.

Robyn nodded sharply. “Good.”

Joanna’s voice and expression didn’t waver an inch as she added, “Might want to put a shirt on first.”

**Author's Note:**

> Someday I will once more write a smut fic that actually gets to the good part shh don't @ me I know.
> 
> My thanks once again to Kablob because her emotional support is magic.


End file.
